Fascination and Facade
by sailorgreywolf
Summary: Before the start of WWII, Russia is negotiating a treaty with Nazi Germany. However, his feelings for Prussia cloud his judgment. Pre-WWII RusPru oneshot.


Russia watched with some trepidation as the gleaming black Mercedes, adorned with little red flags pulled into the driveway. He had been anticipating this meeting since it had been arranged over the phone, but now that he was faced with actually going through with it he felt a sinking sense of dread. What if his words failed him and he made a fool out of himself? He still felt like an outsider on the European stage and having a part in European politics still felt awkward to him. Now was worse than before because he was still in the process of pulling together his identity after the revolution and the civil war.

The door of the car opened and Prussia emerged, dressed in the black uniform of the SS. The fading light of the evening played across the white skin and gave the features an otherworldly softness that made Russia's breath catch in his throat. He had desperately hoped that he would be meeting with Germany, not Prussia. Being so close to a man he felt such a strong attraction to would not help with his awkward nature. Temptation was hard to resist, especially when it was presented like this.

He watched as the albino gave orders to one of the soldiers that were accompanying him. His quick sharp words were clear even though he couldn't hear them. The albino's movements were very deliberate. Russia found his mind slipping into thoughts of how he could soften those gestures, how he could get those words to turn to sweet nothings. He desperately wanted it, but he knew that Prussia felt very little for him.

Russia slowly let the red curtain he had been holding back to look out the window slip between his fingers. He willed his thundering heart to be silent, but it seemed to be futile. He took a deep breath and consciously put on his icy façade. It would help him keep himself in order; it seemed to be effective with every other country. They always turned away out of fear. Perhaps more importantly, it would hide how he was really feeling. He had his orders, he was to finalize an agreement and that was all. He turned and walked to the door, signaling for it to be opened as he did so.

The house he was occupying now was the same he had lived in during the tsarist years, but it had been stripped of all signs of the monarchy. Thus, the front doors were still the grand sweeping doors that required two men to open. As the door was pulled open, the courtyard and driveway were revealed. Prussia walked through the door without even breaking step. Once inside, he looked directly at Russia and said, "Guten Tag, Ivan. I assume you know why I am here."

His voice was hard, clearly emotionless. Russia hardly heard the words; he was busy looking over the uniform that Prussia was wearing. He had seen an SS uniform before, but nobody filled it out the way Prussia did. The folds of the fabric bent in just the right places to show the curves under the clothing. Russia could see the strong shoulders. He saw the subtle bulge of pectoral muscle, the soft slope of a well-muscled abdomen. The sleek black belt cinched the fabric in around the waist. Russia wondered arrantly if both of his hands could fit around that lithe waist with the clothing out of the way. He could pull the albino against himself and feel that heart pounding for something other than war.

He smiled and said, "It's a pleasure to see you, Gilbert. I've been rather alone since the revolution." He ignored Prussia's attempt to jump straight to business, which would end this encounter. As much as he had been dreading it, a sudden confidence was overtaking him. He had survived a communist revolution and shaped himself into a stronger country. He shouldn't be bound by the old doubts, especially when it came to Prussia.

The albino responded, "I'm here to finalize our treaty, not as company." His voice was cold and the words were clinical. But, it was not discouraging. Russia replied smoothly, "Such haste. It's rather suspicious." Prussia's eyes widened slightly.

He took a small step closer to the other country. His composure returned with a confident smile, "Oh, I wouldn't want to be arousing your suspicions; I want you on our side." He chose the intonation carefully. It made a slight shiver pass over Russia's skin, making goose bumps visible on what little of his skin was exposed. He responded, "So, shall we put pleasantries before business?"

The albino nodded sharply and said, "Very well." Russia smirked; the agreement was exactly what he wanted. He turned and started to walk down the hall. As he did, he said, "Follow me, I don't want to discuss terms in the foyer." He walked through a series of rooms before coming to the room he had ordered prepared for this discussion. It was a large room with windows to let in the last of the sunrays.

Russia stopped at the door and let the other walk past him. The walk was the carefully measured gate of a solider, but every so often the right foot would roll almost imperceptibly inward. The slight wear on the inside arch of the black boot showed that this was habitual. Russia liked it, the little imperfection that showed the human underneath the discipline. Prussia turned sharply on his heel and looked around. He said, "I remember this room."

Russia immediately recognized why and it wasn't a pleasant memory for him. He said grudgingly, "This is where we signed the treaty of Brest-Litovsk." The albino responded with a short shake of his head, "That wasn't what I was thinking of. I was actually thinking of when we used to have Holy Alliance meetings here." He pointed to an empty spot on the wall and said, "I remember the Romanov crest used to hang there."

Russia smiled to himself. It was an encouraging sign that Prussia remembered such minute details. However, he couldn't help but feel that the comment about the now extinct royal family was a commentary on the current regime. It was, however, easier to give the albino the benefit of the doubt. He decided to change the subject, "You should sit, and we have matters to discuss."

The albino nodded and walked over to the pair of couches that Russia had gestured to. When he sat, Prussia took off his hat and laid it down on the table. His white hair was combed into immaculate order and held firmly in place. As he sat on the opposite side of the table, Russia wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through that hair. He had always imagined it to be soft like no other human hair, maybe because it reminded him of the soft fur of an arctic rabbit. He had often envisioned what it would be like to brush back that hair when it was disheveled and stuck to pale skin with a layer of sweat.

There was a bottle of vodka sitting on the table with a pair of glasses flanking it. Russia picked up the bottle and poured an equal amount of liquid into each glass. He then pushed one across the table towards the other. The albino looked down at it and said, "If I remember correctly, if I don't drink you won't trust me."

The Russian responded, "Exactly, I won't trust a man who won't drink with me." The albino picked up the glass and smirked, "If we are to be allies, it would be best if we trusted each other." He then put the glass to his lips and took a substantial drink. Russia then did the same.

Next, he took a package of cigarettes and offered one to the albino. He knew that it was in fashion to smoke, so it was polite to offer one to his guest. But, Prussia shook his head, "I don't smoke. It's a self-destructive habit." Russia laughed slightly, attempting to make conversation, "And you don't indulge in any of those?"

The other didn't look ruffled, but he did change the subject. Prussia laid a piece of paper on the table and said, "This is the non-aggression pact, exactly as you agreed to it with my brother. All that's left is for you and I to sign it in good faith." He offered the pen to Russia, who didn't take it. He had his misgivings about this deal that he had been waiting to ask in person.

His gaze did pass over the hand holding the pen. The skin was clearly marred by callouses from years of holding a sword. It was a sign that being a military country left a permanent mark. He could tell that if those hands touched his skin, they would feel pleasantly rough. Russia spoke, "I have some questions to ask you before I will sign." Prussia looked taken aback, his eyebrows arched imperceptibly more. The expression itself was exciting, the human within again slipped through the conditioning. The little imperfections were what Russia longed to see, they spoke to a complexity that was so well hidden beneath façade.

The albino spoke, "I thought the terms had already been agreed on." Russia laughed slightly, "That's not what I want to ask. I understand the terms. We launch a joint attack on Poland, and then we remain allies against whatever comes from that."

The albino sharply cut in, "If you understand that, then there is nothing for us to discuss." The abrupt interruption was completely normal for Prussia; it was his nature when he was stressed. Russia put up his hand to silence the other and said, "Patience, Gilbert, I understand what the pact says, but what I don't understand is why you sought me out for an alliance."

The other sighed out of relief and quickly responded, "My brother and I need your strength. You've grown into quite the industrial nation." His red eyes fixed themselves on Russia. Those eyes were expressive; the melting ruby was full of emotion. Russia could see admiration within the red depths. It took him a second to realize that it was admiration for him; it just seemed foreign that Prussia would have any reason to admire him.

It was enough to make him feel like he was melting on the inside, but the answer wasn't actually the one he wanted. He clarified, "Strength is one thing, and ideology is another. I understand that your ideology views me as everything that's wrong." This was the important point and the one that had bothered Russia since Germany had contacted them. He had watched the fiery anti-communist rhetoric of the Nazi party rise and felt even threatened by it. For a country so entrenched in the idea of hating communist to reach out to Russia, a country that represented the pinnacle of communism, seemed very strange.

Prussia laughed, "Ivan, you shouldn't worry about that. Despite what Hitler may rave about, I know who is really on my side." His red eyes seemed to see right through Russia, who felt a strange flutter in his stomach. He had imagined what it would be like to see affection in those crimson orbs, but he had never actually seen it. In this moment, it was there. It was warm and the warmth was spreading to Russia.

The albino continued to talk, "You are one of the very few people who I can still trust. You didn't conspire against me in Versailles. You've never betrayed me, which is more than I can say for any of my former friends." The feeling of warmth rapidly spread through Russia at the words. It was an entirely new feeling for him.

He responded, "Thank you for that, Gilbert." He reached out and signed the agreement. The action was enough for a broad smile to appear on the albino's face. Russia had seen a smile like that fair few times on Prussia's face. He took the pen from Russia and signed the agreement. There was a refined elegance in the stroke of Prussia's signature, an old habit left from the days of the Enlightenment. It was those little quirks that made the albino so fascinating.

Russia ran his tongue over his dry lips and spoke, attempting to continue the conversation, "I get the feeling that nothing is going to be the same after this." He didn't want the conversation to end, because he wanted to continue to observe Prussia. Now that duty was out of the way, it was likely that the albino would leave. The German's smile didn't disappear, instead he said, "You have no idea how true that is. We are going to redraw the map of Europe."

A manic fire lit in the back of the red eyes. It burned with a frightening intensity. Prussia continued talking, "I will get my revenge on everyone who wronged me at Versailles. You are an integral part of that revenge, Ivan." The cold that seeped into the voice was completely new. There was something about it that sent a strange feeling through Russia. He knew that he projected that kind of coldness, but he hadn't expected to see it from anyone else. For a moment he felt like there was a connection between them that had never existed before.

Russia almost believed that if he closed the space between them, he would find no resistance. He could put his lips against Prussia's and taste the tongue that spoke such sweet clever words. He wanted to believe that he would be able to run his hand down the inner thigh of the other and find no objection. But, he didn't make the movement, instead simply saying, "You've changed, Gilbert. You've never sounded so cruel before."

Prussia's red eyes narrowed but he didn't react as though he was insulted. He smirked and said, "Is that such a bad thing? The rest of Europe has been cruel to my brother, why should I not retaliate in kind?" Even with the cold words, Russia could hear a brother's love in the voice. It was the kind of pure love he had never seen from his own selfish siblings.

He voiced it, "You really love Ludwig, don't you?" The albino nodded, "I would do anything for him, anything to keep him safe and happy." Russia leaned forward slightly. The words awoke certain boldness in him. He wanted that sort of love directed at him and if he could reach out and touch Prussia, he could have that. However, he was held back by his doubt. Russia doubted that the other's affection for him extended beyond anything but admiration.

Prussia leaned slightly forward as well and said, "You've changed as well. When we sent Lenin back to you, I knew it would change you but I had no idea how much. You've become so much stronger, so much more powerful." The praise was delivered in what was almost a purr, making another shiver pass over Russia's skin. It made the last of his restraint disappear completely. He leaned the rest of the way forward and put his hand on the albino's soft white cheek. The skin felt better than he had imagined, it was not inordinately soft, but it felt perfect. Russia couldn't stop a small smile from appearing on his face.

But, the moment was short. Prussia stood up quickly, pulling himself away from the hand. He swept both the agreement and his hat off the table with a single movement. He said evasively, "I need to get this back to Berlin." He didn't even glance at Russia as he put his hat firmly back on his head.

Russia felt all the confidence he had gathered drain away. He again felt like the awkward boy he had been, the outsider not welcome in Europe or Asia. The only option was to put back up his cold front and act like he was unfazed. He said, "Leaving so soon?"

The albino glared at him and said, "I have to get the agreement back to Ludwig by tomorrow." Russia sighed, accepting that his chance was gone. He replied with the best neutral response he could come up with, "I will see you in Warsaw and soon I expect." Prussia responded, "Yes, very soon."

* * *

_A/N: This is a oneshot I have thought about writing for a very long time, but for some reason it never gotten written until now. _

_It occurred to me that I usually write snow bunny entirely from Prussia's POV, so I decided that it was about time to try for some real insight into Ivan. He isn't as in control as Prussia perceives him to be. Anyway, I wanted to show how Ivan could have agreed to ally with Nazi Germany, even knowing the risk._

Please review, it's absurdly hard to get reviews on oneshots.


End file.
